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we’re in the room:
ceiling lights are off
grey outside. a gentle rain.
lamps spit glow into the corners
soft music. a candle. a gaggle
of fourteen year olds writing
about their hands
with their hands.

we are bundles
of words throwing each other
around like dice: snake eyes. double sixes.

these moments are a shelter from the storms.
we sit. i chat with them individually.
teaching about how using
short. one syllable. words. can.
speed. up. the.pace. of. their. poem.
get weird with structure
punctuation. see what happens.

during sharing time, a girl
unloads her soul into our space,
mouths agape they listen, connect, understand:
we too can do this their silent reactions say.

we snap applause and approval.
that might be our first holy shit moment, i say
grinning, wielding the power of a curse word.

among teenagers. after twenty years, i know
what makes them tick:
music. darkness. candles. building a vibe.

let them know they can do it.
show them how to do it.
let them do it.